forget me not
by damnation soldier
Summary: Jackson says goodbye to Lydia. Post S02E02 "Master Plan".


_"To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die." - Thomas Campbell._

* * *

"I can't go back."

The moment Jackson says those words, the redhead stumbled on her steps. He caught her by the arm, steadying the girl easily.

"What?"

Her voice is accusing, as if he's just become the most outrageous thing in the world, scratch that he already was_- ish._ Previously the Kanima, and now a werewolf.

_"Why?"_

This time there's a fragile undertone as she shivered when she asked this.

He was still shirtless, hell almost naked, and there she was leaning on the lumber from the warehouse where commotion had went down dressed in that fuzzy sweater. Yet, she was the one chilled to the bone.

He would've given her something to cover up with if he were presently more decent in terms of clothing.

"You're cold," he stated, before moving to wrap his arms around her. This was unlike him but given all that's happened tonight, and for her role in _saving_ him - yes Lydia Martin was his hero.. she deserved the comfort.

Apparently she didn't want it, however.

She slapped him away, turning icy. "Don't change the subject. Why the hell aren't you coming back with me?"

"I can't be in Beacon Hills, I died, remember?" She lets her guard down and he has the perfect moment to grab her shoulders in a convincing manner.

"Say you had cerebromedullospinal disconnection! Hell say you came back from the dead for all I care, we- _I_ need you here with me," she pleaded, green eyes wide.

"English please?" He raised an eyebrow, Christ, his girlfriend must've been downplaying so much of her intelligence - she was such a brainiac, but she was _his_ brainiac.

She pouted, "It's like a locked-in syndrome. You appear dead but you're actually not. You're trapped on the inside fighting your way to the surface. People would say it gives the illusion of a temporary death."

"I can't, Lyd."

"Why not?" Her question's simple, almost childlike, and he feels like he's breaking her heart all over again to bits when he answers her.

"They're not idiots. They wouldn't believe it. I was bleeding, without a pulse on the lacrosse field! Everyone who bothered actually mourned for me. Tell me you didn't mourn for me because you actually _believed_ I somehow survived," he demanded.

She couldn't lie, not to him. She remained silent, flashing back to how she went to the Stiles and cried for him. And that was after the one hour long bawling session she had in the parking lot in her car.

"I thought so," Jackson sneers. His expression melted again once he sees her sad face. "It's not going to work. No cover story in the world is going to sell the lies. And I can't lie anymore.."

She falters, before bitterly remarking, "You never had any problem doing that before."

He squirms. "It's not like I asked for this-"

"But you did! How the hell did you get the bite in the first place if you didn't ask? I may be lying in the hospital bed after an NDE with that disgusting Peter Hale but I am not some dumb bitch," at the mention of his name, said resurrected man winked from a distance, he'd been in mid conversation with his nephew (the rest of the crowd had cleared the site for other favors) but apparently her fight with the recently cured Kanima was interesting to the eye that he'd diverted his attention to them.

Lydia didn't flinch at the sight of the middle aged man whom terrorized her privacy and mind to the extreme, and instead looked like she wanted to gauge his eyes out. "Fuck off!"

Jackson was a bit shocked at the exclamation, he's never seen this side of Lydia before. The anger and all.

She cools down after a brief pause, before locking eyes with him again. "I'm sorry. I just- I can't understand why you have to leave. Especially after all that we've been through."

Frowning he grazed her cheek, with his gentle, calloused fingers instead of the scaled claws - a change he has to thank her for, "It's not what I want to either. But, I can't stay here. My parents are going to flip, along with the whole school and I need to figure- I- I need to figure.. _me."_

"You can do that here! With all the wolves in town," she pressed on, desperate to not lose him. "I swear to god you can be happy here, even in hiding! I'll skip class and bring you lunch everyday and I'll accompany you in your body building adventures, and-"

His finger came to her lips, stopping her mid rant. Tenderly gazing into her eyes, he breathed out, "But you won't. You can't be happy, you can't be free. You can't have what you want."

Those three sentences hit their mark. But she denied their truth, like a heavy anchor sunk in the ocean.

"You can't possibly know what I want," she argued.

"Well I know well enough to understand that you wouldn't want to be caught running with an outlaw or the sort," he countered.

She huffed, "You just don't get it, do you? I still, I still love you. No matter what."

He kisses her. It's the cheapest trick he's ever known possible, how to distract a young lady from her pent up troubles.

They're alone now, he knows that, his enhanced hearing and sensors had confirmed so.

He pressed her against the wall. They haven't done this for a long time, so he's bound to get a bit rusty.

It's skin against skin in a matter of seconds. He couldn't believe they were doing this in such a place, a creepy, unsanitary, abandoned warehouse - but she didn't complain. She never complains under his affections.

He wants to say it so badly. It agonizes him when he bites at her earlobe and he realizes just how effortless it could be to proclaim those three words, for the first time in a decade.

_I love you._

But he locks it in. Somehow he locks the beast inside of him too. He knows his heartbeat's gone crazy, like a train on velocity, and he knows the wolf is dying to burst out like a dynamite.

He'll last. For the time being.

For the last time.

Breathless, she utters naively, "Does this mean you changed your mind?"

It's unclear, but she mistakes him when their lips collide again, and he somehow turns their progress into full motion. He carries her in his arms, and she laughs, her crimson hair flying everywhere.

_Silly girl._

* * *

Lydia Martin wakes up with a pounding headache, half dressed against the canopy of the woods. It's not exactly the most dignified way to come to her senses, but her insecurities faded as she dwell upon something more important. Like the whereabouts of Whittemore.

"Jackson? Jackson!"

She called for him, but no, he was gone. And she'd been a fool.

Her feet brushed against a familiar texture. Paper, a letter, folded securely. She picked it up from the soil.

A key, his key falls from it. Her eyes watered as she read his distinct, rough scribble.

_Unlike some things you're immune to, you're not immune to a hole in your heart. Do you still love me now? -J.  
_

He left her stranded and screwed, with a short message that stings like sunburn.

Choking on her words which were barely a whisper, her knees gave out, "I still do."

* * *

He runs on all fours, on a speed as if he was running for his life, which he was.

The rush and adrenaline fueled his blood. The nature around him disappearing entirely in a blurry haze.

He hears it.

He hears her.

He runs faster.

* * *

_A/N: Just a short little piece for my favorite pairing on the show; J/L. Since Colton's taking his hat off for the third season, might as well say goodbye here. So this is the angst-y farewell impromptu between these two. Review?_


End file.
